Social creatures, blank slates
The sum total of each and everyone
We've been exposed to has left some trace
No matter great, fleeting or miniscule
The slate gets erased but remnants remain
To shape e'er so slightly
The impressionable brain
And season it e'er so lightly
Each kindness done
Each gentle touch
Leaves it's mark
Be it little…or much
We should think twice before judging
The ones we think flawed
They're the sum of the writing
That appears on the wall
They're the product of happenstance
Victims of Fate
Tomes written by others
‘Pon minds open state
And they are who they are
Not by choice
but by words written at random
…Upon blank, empty slate…
6 stanzas-24 lines
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't think the slate is completely blank when we are born. We do inherit traits and talents from our ancestors. And throughout our life, everyone we meet has some influence as to what else is added to the slate. Even events and circumstances can alter the slate. All this, combined with our choices and decisions, makes us who we are. And I agree completely - we should not judge anyone else. We should spend more time making sure our slate is in proper order. A well-written piece.